Thirty Days We Fell in Love
by Pearl-Posts
Summary: A 30 day OTP prompt featuring Viktuuri/Victuui/Vikturi/Victuri (wow)!
1. Getting Lost Together

**I found this challenge on Pinterest quite a while ago and I've been planning it for a very long time. So I'm excited!**

 **Warnings: Victor being drunk and sexy and lewd.**

 **Enjoy!**

Yuuri isn't remotely used to nightlife. He's sued to quiet, still nights wandering the streets until ten or sitting up by the light of his cellphone and listening to the wind and his parents closing up the onsen for the night.

Barcelona is a different story. There's no stillness when he opens the curtains. Cars zoom past underneath the balcony, colorful against what's left of the sunset. His breath fogs and he shivers, tucking his toes into the blanket.

He's perched on the hotel balcony in a little plastic chair with only a thin wool blanket to battle the cold.

Yuuri is homesick. He's been homesick before, in Detroit, traveling to skating competitions, but it's been lesser and lesser the more he's travelled with Victor. So now, sitting alone on this loud balcony is Spain, his lungs burning from the cold, it feels so much more wholesome than he can ever remember it being.

The balcony door slides open loudly, squeaking on badly oiled sliders, and closes again. Victor plops himself down in the other plastic chair and props his chin on Yuuri's shoulder.

"Can't sleep?" He asks.

Yuuri shakes his head.

"How about we go somewhere?"

"Victor, it's late," Yuuri protests weakly, rationally.

"Let's go somewhere, Yuuri." Victor's head disappears and he shoots up suddenly. "Get dressed! The best cure for homesickness is getting drunk, Yuuri!"

"Victor, I-!" Yuuri's blanket is torn over his head and vanishes inside with Victor.

Evidently, when Victor said that getting drunk is the best cure for homesickness, he meant that trying and failing to hail a taxi at midnight in Spain with an attractive, lewd, drunk Russian skating legend hanging to your arm is a good way to forget about being homesick.

Victor knew enough Spanish to get them to the taxi driver's recommendation of a local bar, but Yuuri knows nothing. Nothing. And Victor spent most of his foreign currency on drinks.

Defeated, Yuuri gives in to Victor's admittedly seductive Russian murmuring and his lack of Spanish cultural knowledge and just starts walking.

"Yooori," Victor has looped one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, handicapping his walking. He threads his fingers through the strand of hair on the nape of Yuuri's neck. "Yooori I'm cooooooold."

"Really?" Yuuri gazes up at a badly lot street sign, trying to make sense of the characters. "Because just a couple hours ago, you were on the hotel balcony in your pajamas."

"I woooosn't cold zen, Yuuri." His drunkenly thickened accent is making it hard for Yuuri to swallow. "Warm me up, Yoooori."

"Put your jacket on."

"Noooooo. Zen I can't hold Yooooori like ziiiiiiis."

"Victor, what does that say?" Yuuri points to the street sign.

"Dunnoooo." Victor licks a hot trail up the shell of Yuuri's ear.

"Victor, quit licking me!" He yelps shrilly. "We're lost, you know!"

"I'm never lost when I'm wiv Yoooori." Victor nuzzles his nose into the corner between Yuuri's earlobe and jaw and sighs against his skin.

"I'm serious Victor, what does this say?"

"Yuuri doesn't like sweet talk?" Victor murmurs lowly, tongue darting out daringly. "Maybe dirty talk instead, hmmm?"

"N- No!" Yuuri stammers. "V- Victor, please just help me here."

"I vill help Yoori eef he vill help me too." Victor hums.

"Victor," Yuuri groans. "Please just help me."

A taxi screeches to a halt by the curb and a trio of girls get out. Yuuri quickly hauls Victor over, and, in English, the closest one he knows to Spanish, tries to explain to the taxi driver where he wants to go.

"Sooooo," Victor hums, resting his head against Yuuri's arm in the quiet back of the taxi cab. It smells of smoke and worn leather. Yuuri is torn between watching the city lights whiz past the window and watching Victor's eyelashes flutter drunkenly.

"Yes, Victor?"

"Iz Yooori still homesick?"

"No," Yuuri says truthfully. "Anywhere is home with you, Victor."

Yuuri doesn't even realize he said that out loud until Victor throws himself over his student. The resulting yelling is so loud that the cab driver glares at them in the rear view mirror and starts blasting ear-splittingly loud Spanish hip hop.


	2. Pet Names

**I could have done better on the prose, but oh well. I did plenty of research on Russian and Japanese honorifics but if I got anything wrong, please tell me!**

 **Thanks bunches to midnightsky6012 for reviewing and favoriting and to Stillnight for following and favoriting. You make the story go 'round!**

 **Enjoy!**

Yu-pyon. It still had him blushing.

At the rink not hours earlier, as he was putting his skates into his bag and putting on his shoes, Victor has wrapped his arms around Yuuri from behind and leaned into his back and whispered, "I love you, Yuu-pyon."

He'd pronounced it wrong, like pu-yawn instead of pei-yon, and he was almost strangling Yuuri when he said it, but Yuuri knew he knew exactly what it meant. Hot blood rose to his cheeks and settled there so intensely that he thought he'd have to dunk his face in a bucket of ice to make it stop.

Three knocks at the door. "Yuuuuuuri, come talk to me. I'm sorry, Yuuri!"

He didn't do anything wrong. Yuuri's just not sure how Victor expects him to form coherent sentences the rest of the week.

"Yuuri! YuuriYuuriYuuriYuuriYuuriYuu-"

"Okay, hold on," Yuuri shuts him up and clears his browser history. He pads to the door, opens it, and doesn't meet Victor's eyes.

Arms land around his shoulders and squeeze, pushing him back into the room. Victor is blubbering into his ear, quietly, chanting, "I'm sorry, so sorry," over and over again and doesn't stop even when Yuuri wriggles away and sits himself back in his desk chair.

"Yuuri, I'm sorry, I didn't know it would upset you, Yuuri."

"V- Victor, I…" He trails off, fingers nervously picking at the hem of his shirt. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Victor visibly relaxes, then produces a huge smile and jumps onto Yuuri's bed. "Well in that case, I love you, Yuu-pyon."

Yuuri squeaks and hides his face in his hands, pushing his glasses onto his forehead. He peeks out between his fingers and sees, although blurred, Victor's heart shaped smile.

"I l- ove you too, V- Vityushka."


	3. Patching Each Other Up

"I can walk, Victor," Yuuri protests as the Russian unlocks the door with one hand and stumbles both of them inside. He slides Yuuri onto the bathroom counter.

"Yuuri, your foot is broken," Victor cries, untying Yuuri's shoe and depositing both shoes and socks onto the floor. It's true that an angry purple and green bruise had swollen his ankle, but it's not broken.

"No, just sprained probably."

Victor pouts his lip at that and opens the medical cabinet to take out a roll of gauze. "But it's still my fault." He kneels between Yuuri's feet and looks up at him with watery puppy eyes. "I'm sorry, Yuuri."

Yuuri says nothing. It really is Victor's fault. They had taken a walk to a park for a picnic, but Victor had forgotten the food. By the time either of them realized, they were at the top of a large hill and very hungry.

"Let's just go back," Yuuri had suggested.

"But I'm tired," Victor whined, slinging arms around Yuuri's shoulders and pressing his weight into Yuuri. Yuuri had stumbled and fallen forward, sending both of them toppling and cartwheeling down the hill. Victor had laughed it off until he realized that Yuuri was actually hurt. He'd almost called an ambulance.

"Yuuri?" Victor singsongs as his fiancè's quietness.

"Huh?" Yuuri jolts as Victor's medically untrained fingers wrap a bit too tight around his bruise. He hisses through his teeth.

"Sorry!" Victor practically squeals, pressing a gentle kiss against the injury.

"What- what did you want to tell me?" Yuuri chokes.

"Just that I love you, Yuuuuuuri."

 **I know I need to work on my prose, but the next on will be better I promise! Please review I need it in my life.**


	4. Hospital Visits

**Howdy partners! I'm at school posting this but I finished early for you to have enough time to make the next one great! YAAAAY!**

 **Enjoy!**

For Yuuri, hospitals were always kind of surreal. Their floors are too shiny and their doctors too nice. Hospitals were too fake to have seen so much death and sickness in their walls. Like putting on a fake smile.

He remembers once in middle school when Nishigori had an allergic reaction to something in his lunch and had to go to the hospital. He remembers calling the ambulance when Yuko went into labor and waiting, pacing the waiting room for hours, just to hear back. But he always knew she'd be okay.

This time is different. This time, it's Victor, and he's not sure.

They were on a run. Well, Yuuri was running. Victor was on his bike. Makkachin was running alongside Yuuri, and spotted a squirrel or something. That was it. He'd darted between Yuuri's feet and Victor had yanked on his handlebars to try not to hit him. He hadn't.

Yuko is holding his hand.

He expects he should feel numb or something. That's not really true. It's more like complete, all-consuming, hot, so hot, panic. Helplessness. It's different from an anxiety attack. That's more like a tornado inside his chest. This is an ocean on his shoulders, and he's grabbing at the waves, trying to keep it balanced but it's just not working and soon enough he's just going to-

"Is anyone here for Nikiforov Victor?"

Yuuri shoots up, practically knocking the green plastic chair over in his frantic haste.

Yuuri isn't sure. He hasn't been sure since he got up off the sidewalk, scraped at best, while Victor was just laying there and not. Getting. Up.

"He's fine," the doctor is saying, and the ocean on his shoulders is evaporating.

"C- Can I see him?" Yuuri manages to choke through a windpipe that somehow seems too small.

"Are you family?"

"His fiancé."

"Okay. Follow me." The doctor swishes away. Yuko's hand slips out of his.

He follows the doctor on weak legs, past hallways that he's sure he'd seen seconds before, down too long corridors and around too many corners until they reach a door that's just like every other door on that endless, silent hallway.

Yuuri thinks superficially that he would find it ironic or tragic that such a barren door and the bland room inside houses the one and only skating legend Victor Nikiforov. He doesn't.

Yuuri doesn't really stop long enough to notice the door, or room, or doctor, as the completely unnoticed door swings open into a room that is just as likely to be there as to be a void. Yuuri doesn't care, not when Victor is there.

"We put him on painkillers," the doctor is saying, and Yuuri is hardly listening. Something about sleep. Painkillers. He's asleep. Keeping him overnight. Released soon.

There's a cast bloating his arm. Maybe it's serious, but maybe it's not. Suddenly, the ocean is dripping back onto his shoulders, and tears are dripping onto the hands clutching the metal bars caging him in.

 **Told you this one was going to be better. TRAGEDY STRIKES AGAIIIN!**

 **Anyway, review. I need it in my life!**


	5. Scar Worship

**Thanks to Moon Haired Pristess for the favorite, to blood soft as silk for the favorite, follow, and review, to midnightsky6012 reviewing!**

 **Enjjjjooooyyyyyyyy!**

Victor hasn't noticed his scars since his last competition. Despite the ice being so cold, he was sure his feet were on fire. Bruised from skates that he knows he should replace with a larger size, ringed with hot scars from the tight cinching of laces on bare skin where his sweatpants don't reach and his socks stop.

Yuuri notices. It's one more thing they share.

"You really should have said something, Victor," Yuuri chastises gently. Victor is sitting back on the couch, Yuuri crouched between his feet, the floor around them littered with trash.

"So should you," Victor retorts.

"Mine aren't this bad," Yuuri mutters. His fingers are cold, ghosting over Victor's ankle, gentle but firm. Victor is wholly entranced, the pain and inflammation in his feet forgotten as he watches his fiancé work.

Suddenly, lips that are warmer than his fingers but still cool, press against the outer ball of his ankle.

"I didn't know you were into that, Yuuri," Victor teases. Under his bangs, he can see Yuuri's nose go red.

"I- I'm not!" Yuuri stammers quickly, steady fingers slipping and dropping a tube of Neosporin. "I was only trying to…"

"To what, Yuuri?" Victor prompts, leaning down and pressing his cheek into Yuuri's hair.

"Kiss it better," he mutters.

Victor laughs, "You can kiss me anywhere you like, Yuuri!"

That's when Mari walks in, takes one look at the two of them, and leaves. Victor bursts into laughter and, disappointed that Yuuri doesn't find it funny at all, pounces off the couch to tickle him.


	6. Making Fun of One Another

**Note from last chapter: I DO NOT HAVE A FOOT FETISH OKAY**

 **So for is one, I think their relationship is wayyyyy too lovey for them to make fun of one another, so I'm modifying it a bit and having a crack chapter in which a bunch of skaters make fun of each other. Don't report me for the script format.**

 **Thanks to midnightsky6012 for reviewing! (Also, I'm sorry for tomorrow's chapter in advance.)**

 **K enjoy**

 _ **Phi-Chal has added katsukidon, Vic_N**_

 _Ice_Tiger: WHY ARE THEY HERE_

 _Ice_Tiger: WHY AM I HERE_

 _Ice_Tiger: WHO ARE YOU_

 _Phi-Chal: Your guardian angel_

 _Vic_N: y u do dis_

 _katsukidon: Hi Phichit_

 _Phi-Chal: Hi ^_^_

 _Vic_N: you dont greet me Yuuri how mean_

 _Vic_N: Im cryin_

 _katsukidon: Victor I am sitting right next to you_

 _Phi-Chal: Send me pics_

 _katsukidon: Of what?_

 _Phi-Chal: Whatever you're doing_

 _Ice_Tiger: I'm leaving_

 _Phi-Chal: Hold on Yurio_

 _Ice_Tiger: HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME_

 _Vic_N: XD_

 _Ice_Tiger: THAT IS NOT MY NAME_

 _katsukidon: Phichit is gone that isn't a good sign_

 _Phi-Chal: NEVER FEAR I AM BACK_

 _ **Phi-Chal has added Atlin-Otabek, ICExy**_

 _ **Phi-Chal has added MemeTemeLeo, Guang-Hong**_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Chris is here?_

 _ICExy: u know it_

 _Vic_N: hi chris_

 _ **Guang-Hong has sent [ ]**_

 _Phi-Chal: Your formatting is as bad as your memes_

 _MemeTemeLeo: r00d_

 _Phi-Chal: jk XD_

 _Vic_N: how did you get a pic of makkachin_

 _Phi-Chal: What is makkachin_

 _katsukidon: Victor that's an old picture of my dog_

 _katsukidon: How did you get a picture of Vicchan?_

 _Vic_N: oh thats y ur in it_

 _katsukidon: Yeah_

 _Ice_Tiger: Moron_

 _ICExy: stop or I'll add jj_

 _Ice_Tiger: DAMMIT NO_

 _Guang-Hong: XD_

 _ICExy: XP_

 _Vic_N: yuuri u used to have a dog named vicchan_

 _Phi-Chal: He was obsessed with you_

 _katsukidon: PHICHIT NO_

 _Phi-Chal: Yuuri told me he used to have posters_

 _Phi-Chal: Lots of posters_

 _Vic_N: brb_

 _katsukidon: VICTOR NO_

 _Vic_N: he does_

 _Phi-Chal: XD_

 _ **Vic_N has changed their name to Vicchan**_

 _katsukidon: ;-;_

 _Ice_Tiger: You guys are gross_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Yurio I've seen your private Instagram pics_

 _ICExy: send?_

 _Guang-Hong: Send them to JJ Leroy_

 _Vicchan: send 2 yakov_

 _Phi-Chal: Repost them_

 _Ice_Tiger: NO_

 _Ice_Tiger: I WILL KICK YOU WITH MY KNIFE SHOES_

 _katsukidon: Knife shoes? You mean your skates?_

 _Ice_Tiger: MY KNIFE SHOES KATSUDON_

 _Ice_Tiger: THE KNIFE SHOES I BEAT YOU AT THE GPF WITH_

 _ICExy: ouch_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Shots fired_

 _Vicchan: yurio so mean_

 _ **Vicchan has sent [ ]**_

 ** _ICExy has renamed the chat_** **Embarrass Yuuri**

 _Phi-Chal: True_

 _Phi-Chal: I ship it_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Same_

 _Phi-Chal: I ship Leoji too_

 _Guang-Hong: \\\\\\\\\_

 _MemeTemeLeo: :0_

 _Phi-Chal: And Otayuri_

 _Ice_Tiger: Is that me and Beka?_

 _Atlin-Otabek: What does ship mean_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Look it up_

 _Ice_Tiger: BEKA AND I ARE NOT DATING_

 _Ice_Tiger: PERVERTS_

 _ICExy: those nicknames say otherwise ;)_

 _ **Ice_Tiger has left the chat**_

 _ **Atlin-Otabek has added Ice_Tiger**_

 _Phi-Chal: Victor and Yuuri are gone_

 _Phi-Chal: So are Leo and Guang Hong_

 _Phi-Chal: MY OTPS ARE CANON_

 **I am very proud of Yuuri and Chris's chat names (katsukidon and ICExy). XD I love chat/crack fics. Chrack fics. XD**


	7. Death of Someone Close

**Thanks to midnightsky6012 for reviewing!**

 **I'm sorry.**

 **Enjoy, if you dare.**

Every day for a year, Victor knew he was selfish.

"Show me the step sequence again." Yurio commanded.

 _Say yes_ , Victor pleads with himself in his own mind. _Say something. Tell him you appreciate him. Anything._

But dream-Victor, every time, says, "Try it again on your own, Yurio."

The blonde clicks his tongue loudly in his mouth. Dream-Victor doesn't think he'll mess it up this time. But he does. And waking-Victor screams, every time, for dream-Victor to just go out there on the ice, to be there for him just once.

He doesn't. He isn't.

Angrily, Yurio restarts the step sequence, and the combination jump at the end. Triple salchow into a- waking-Victor holds his breath- quadruple flip.

And he falls. Every time.

Every time Victor relives that moment, the moment he shot up and finally, finally, went to Yurio's side, he knows it will never be enough. He knew then that it would never be enough.

He's heard it nearly as many times as he's relived the moment. Brain death, the doctors say. And the next thing they say, Victor felt like he heard it a million times but he knows he hasn't; "taking him off life support."

They buried him in a cemetery on a hill barely a block from the ice rink. His only family present was his grandfather. Yakov was there, and Yurio's ballet instructor. Not to mention every competitive skater he's ever met, including JJ, and some he didn't.

Mila and Otabek cried. So did his grandfather. Victor could have sworn he even saw Yakov and Lilla, his ballet teacher, shed a few tears. Yuuri held it together until the end. And Victor hasn't cried once. Not at the funeral, not in the car afterwards, not at Yurio's bedside in the hospital when he visited him every day for a year.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Yuuri whispers to Victor, his voice raspy from sobbing. Victor nods.

"You shouldn't," Yuuri repeats. "It was just an accident, a long time ago."

"It feels like yesterday."

"I know."

They're sitting on the couch in Victor's apartment in St. Petersburg. Victor wishes he were back home in Hatsetsu, Skype calling Yurio and planting kisses on Yuuri's cheek, laughing when Yurio swears at them.

"Victor." Yuuri nudges Victor's cheek towards himself and whispers, "It's okay to cry, you know."

So he does, and he doesn't stop.

 _There are so many things I could have done for him. Years ago, there was a competition between him and Yuuri. I could have choreographed a routine like I promised. I could have told him how much any of us appreciated him._

 _I could have shown him how to do that step sequence just one more time._

 **Btw, that last part was parrot of the eulogy (I'm pretty sure that's the word) Victor wrote. Oh, and, yeah. I cried too, and I wrote the darned thing.**


	8. Sleeping In

**Sorry, I got sick (my inspiration for his, I may add) so it may not be up to par and I wrote this last minute even though it took me a whole week but whatever I have this here and it's the best I can do under the circumstances so sorry**

 **Thanks to AnnMJSanchez for favoriting and following. Thanks to midnightsky6012 for reviewing [midnightsky6012, same here].**

 **Enjoyyyyyyy!**

"Yuuri, Yuuri, wakey wakey!" Victor prances into their bedroom. Makkachin zooms in after him and jumps on Yuuri's chest.

"Mmmmm, Victor!" Yuuri whines.

"What is it?" Victor rolls the covers off Yuuri.

"Sick," he mumbles. Yuuri turns to blink blearily at Victor, and sure enough, his eyes have takes on the glassy sheen of illness, red and puffy.

"Sick!" Victor repeats dramatically, jumping up and darting for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. "How could my precious Yuuri be sick?"

"It's not so bad," Yuuri protests, rolling into a sitting position. Victor pounces on him, pushing him firmly into the bed.

"Go back to sleep, Yuuri."

"It's not so bad," he repeats, squirming weakly.

Victor presses the back of his hand to Yuuri's forehead and gasps, "You're hot!" Yuuri groans. "-Ter than usual."

Yuuri tries his best to push Victor off him. He doesn't really succeed, but Victor gets the message and replaces his body with their thick fur comforter, wrapping his fiancé up before he realizes what is happening.

"Victor, we gotta go to-" he sneezes and sniffles, "-practice."

"Guess again, little piggy!" Victor wags his finger in the air above Yuuri's nose. "Both of us are staying right here all day!" To prove his point, he falls backwards across Yuuri's immobile legs.

"Victor, that isn't," Yuuri sneezes again, and when he regains his functions, Victor is already fast asleep.

 **Next one is better I swear don't leave me yet.**


	9. Hugging

**They don't really directly hug, but sue me.**

 **Thanks to PlutoSapphire for favoriting/following and to midnightsky0612 for reviewing! Additionally, this story isn't really as popular as I thought it would be (which sucks) so I'm kinda disappointed but listen to me beg for pity some other time.**

 **K enjoy**

Yuuri lives for moments of silence.

Freeing silence and soft warmth, when they're the last ones on the beach. When sand clings to their hair and shirts as tightly as Victor clings to him. When saltwater is staining the cuffs of his sweatpants but it doesn't matter.

Victor lives for moments of warmth.

Soaking up the last of Japan's summer evenings, the sand hot where it touches his skin. Listening to Yuuri's heartbeat when he finally dozes off. His arm falling asleep just as steadily as he is himself.

They both live for moments of darkness.

Comfortable, almost-darkness, illuminated by the shimmering anti-shadow of the moon, churning and broken on the ocean. When they drift back into consciousness and Yuuri checks his watch. They walk back to the inn, leaning blearily on one another, their shoes dangling from their fingers.

They live for moments like this.

Yuuri lives for music.

Anything from pounding drums and bass as thick as molasses to soft guitar like butterfly wings. Anything from the cool, quiet ice rink to the heated bar, its chairs sticky and its people faceless and oppressive. Or even something quiet and tuneless, a low hum close to his ear.

Victor lives for the dance.

Anything from the rush of drunken, random twirls and spins to the choreographed grace of figure skating. Anything from a beautiful tale danced by a graceful skater to something he can laugh to, dazed and fuzzy, not quite sure what's going on, but just knowing that he loves it. Or even something slow and soft, in his pajamas in the dark kitchen at midnight.

They both live for art.

Carving swirls in layer after layer of ice until their feet are painted red and purple with bruises and blisters. The ridiculous buzz of alcohol spurring them into an inappropriate display in the middle of a hot, stuffy bar. Or even a slow, warm, embrace to Victor's tuneless humming.

 **I couldn't decide which of these to post for this prompt, so I posted both of them. Too much prose in my opinion, but idrc**


	10. Watching the Other One Sleep

**Oops.**

 **Thanks to katdragneel1 for the favorite and to midnightsky0612 for reviewing!**

 **Enjoy**

Yuuri isn't totally sure what Victor is. He's a master of Eros, that's for sure. Sometimes, Yuuri has trouble believing it.

He cards his fingers gently through soft ivory hair, hypersensitive to every breath ghosting across his skin. Outside, the world is silent and dark. Their top floor hotel room is dimly lit, enough so that Yuuri can see silhouettes of snowflakes falling lazily through the air. The TV silently flashes ethereal colors and shadows across Victor's features. The hotel couch is scratchy and uncomfortable and Victor's head is making his leg numb, but he wouldn't move if he could.

He's so peaceful, Yuuri notices for what could be the millionth time that hour. He's not up and running around and shouting. He's not Russian Skating Legend the Marvelous Victor Nikiforov. He's not The Hottest Bachelor in the World Victor Nikiforov. He's just Victor. Calm, silent, peaceful Victor.

"Yuuri?" He yawns drowsily, blinking hazy blue eyes open lethargically. "What time s'it?"

Yuuri leans down to press his nose against Victor's snowy hair. "About ten."

When Yuuri pulls away, Victor stops him, their faces inches apart, and Yuuri's breath hitches. He can feel fingers- he's not sure who's- twitching nervously against his cheek.

Victor sneezes, so sudden that Yuuri jumps in his seat and Victor goes tumbling off the couch and rolling until he hits his head hard on the low common table.

"Owwwwwww!" Victor sits up, holding the back of his head in his palms. "Yuuri, you've killed me how could you owwww ow!"

Very torn between laughing and worrying, Yuuri opts for darting over to his coach and kneeling in front of him, extending hesitant hands toward the pain-scrunched face.

Victor's eyes shoot open and his hands shoot out, clasping around Yuuri's neck and pulling them both backwards to the floor. Victor flashes his heart-shaped smile and laughs, "I got you, didn't I, Yuuri?"

"V- Victor!" Yuuri half laughs, half cries. "You had me worried."

In response, Victor presses his heart-shaped smile to Yuuri's pouting mouth, leaving a blush and a vague tingling sensation.

When Yuuri gathers enough of his confidence back to call Victor out again, the elder is already fast asleep.

 **So, I was having a conversation with myself and I have come to the conclusion that I'm afraid fluff and crack is getting boring. First of all, I don't write it well. Second of all, this is an OTP prompt and let's face it Victuuri is everyone's MAIN OTP so here's a question:**

 **Should I write something T-rated? (I refuse to write lemons I'm sorry I need at least a shred of dignity)**

 **Please review I really need to know that answer I am begging you.**


	11. Drawing Each Other

**Wow late post sorry. Also, if anyone could explain to me how this relates to the prompt, that'd be great.**

 **Anyway, I have tons of thanks to give out! Thanks to undifined for following and favoriting. Thanks to PlutoSapphire, vanialex, midnightsky6012, and a Guest for reviewing.**

 **Enjoyyy!**

Victor is watching Yuuri. He likes to do that; Victor likes to watch his mouth twist and his brows crumple and shoot up at every weird thing he sees online. Likes to watch his eyes sparkle when he's reading, likes to watch him breathe and blush. Victor just likes watching him.

Victor is propped against the wall, knees crossed over Yuuri's back, who is laying on his elbows upside down on the bed and scrolling through his laptop. Victor can see over his head, blue web art.

Suddenly, Yuuri gasps and slams the laptop shut. Victor startles. Yuuri drops his head into his hands and groans.

"Yuuri?" Victor asks.

"I am so sorry." Yuuri's voice is muffled. "I didn't mean to."

"What happened?" Victor rises to his knees and flops on top of Yuuri, prying his hands away from his face. Yuuri is so red Victor could swear he had just kissed him without realizing. Which is impossible. Anyway.

"I- Nothing!" Yuuri tilts his head away from Victor.

"Yuuri~," Victor smiles his heart-shaped smile, "What did you find online?"

"I said, nothing!" Yuuri can't even believe himself. His voice is shrill with embarrassment and his face could catch on fire.

"You're lying to me, Yuuri!"

"I'm not."

"Are too."

"Victor."

In response, Victor flips Yuuri over and sits back on his waist. Victor regards Yuuri with his cheerful, ice blue gaze. Yuuri is shocked into stillness. In any other situation, he would have tried to wriggle free, but embarrassment weighs heavy on his throat and Victor weighs heavy on his stomach.

"So, Yuuri." Victor leans down close enough that Yuuri can feel the heat of his breath across his neck. "Are you ready to tell me the truth or should I take," a well placed lick under his ear, "matters into my own hands?"

"What-" he swallows the new curls of embarrassment and the metaphorical weight intensifies, "w- would you do?"

Victor's fingers curl under Yuuri's back. His mind is slow to catch on, however. Victor tugs the laptop out from under his student and leaps away from the bed, holding it high in the air with both hands.

"V- Victor!" Yuuri's embarrassment is wavering between skyrocketing and dissolving into horror. "What are you-!"

"If you're not lying, you don't mind if I take a peek, do you?" Victor is wearing the dangerous, false-sweet heart-shaped smile.

"Victor, give it back! Please!" Yuuri makes a desperate jump for the laptop, but Victor snaps it out of the way. Practically before Yuuri can touch the ground, Victor is sitting at Yuuri's desk and scanning the words with his eyes.

Yuuri's embarrassment peaks and then comes crashing onto his face, staining it red. His mouth drops open in horror. Finally, after a few tense heartbeats, Victor turns around with that same heart-shaped smile and says,

"Wow, Yuuri! All you had to do was ask!"

"That- that's not-," Yuuri chokes on the ball of fire in his esophagus, "I didn't know it was… What I mean is, I'm sorry Victor I didn't know it was like that it was cute at first I swear I was going to show it to you so we could laugh over it but- I'm sorry please don't hate me." Yuuri twists the hem of his shirt tightly around his fingers until the circulation cuts off. He opens his mouth to continue when a loud knocking stops him.

"Yuuri, Victor!" Mari calls into the door. "Dinner's ready."

"So," Victor finally says as soon as it goes quiet again, "you're not going to ask?"

"Victor!" Yuuri cries. "Let's just- just go eat."

Yuuri slides open the door and with a smirk, Victor comments loudly enough that Mari snorts from down the hall, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather _eat out_?"

The comment earns him an indignant gasp and Yuuri's silence throughout dinner, but Victor still thinks it was so worth it.

 **Who liked my pun? XD**


	12. Having a Lazy Day

**Thanks to midnightsky6012 for reviewing yet again, to Shiranai Atsune for two follows, and to RavenclawPrincess328 for following!**

 **Enjoy**

"Yuur!" Victor whines. "What do you mean it's not a big deal?" Yuuri sighs. When Victor pouts, it's like talking to a seven year old.

"I mean, it's not a big deal."

"Yuuri!"

"Victor, it's nothing."

Victor crosses his arms, leaning against the counter, and purses his mouth in a childish pout. Yuuri's concentration is alternating between two steaming pots on the stove and (significantly less) Victor's pouting.

"It's still important, Yuuri. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it doesn't matter. I was drunk. I think." Yuuri spares a glance at Victor. Still resolutely pouting. Yuuri sighs, puts his wooden spoon off to the side, and picks up his phone. "Fine. Want me to call Phichit?"

Victor's expression clears and he nods vigorously. Like a child. Yuuri scrolls to Phichit's number in his contacts and puts it on speaker.

"Hi~ Yuuri!" Phichit's bubbly voice explodes into the room.

"Hey, Phichit." He casts a sly, annoyed glance at Victor. "I have Victor here and-" Phichit snickers and Yuuri ignores him, "-and he found out about that New Year's party in college. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" Phichit laughs. "Best night ever!" Victor pouts again.

"Well, now he thinks, for some reason, that I'm cheating on him with you." Yuuri stresses the words carefully.

Phichit gasps; it sounds like white noise over the speaker. "Victor, I would never try to ruin my OTP!"

"Your what?" Yuuri blanches, and meets Victor's eyes. He's finally stopped pouting.

"You guys are my OTP! My one true pairing! The best ship in my fleet!" Yuuri can practically see his best friend's elated grin. Victor is staring at him, smiling.

"Right…," Yuuri trails off awkwardly, the heat of embarrassment blooming on his face. "Thanks, I guess?"

"You're very welcome!"

"Well." Yuuri says after a pause, embarrassment still hot in his throat and Victor's gaze still pinned on him over the phone. "We have to go. Bye, Phichit."

"Bye, OTP!"

Yuuri hurriedly snaps the phone closed and as soon as he does, Victor launches himself into Yuuri.

"Victor, the food-!" The sauce on the stove, forgotten in Victor's pouting fit, has already started to spill over the pot. Yuuri tries to protest, wiggling in Victor's tight hold, "It's going to burn!"

"That's okay, Yuuri. No one expects you to cook well anyway!"

"H- Hey!" Yuuri stammers, breaking free while Victor falls back on the counter to laugh.

I **couldn't think of anything so I added Phichit.**


	13. Fairy Tale

**I was gone but I have a good reason. I'm not going to share it, but there is one.**

 **Thanks to ybarry for following and to PlutoSapphire, RavenclawPrincess238, and midnightsky0612 for reviews!**

 **Enjoy**

Once upon a time, a man decided that his big city was far too small. There was too much space to walk around, and when he did, people would wave at him. Faceless people he didn't know, people who knew his name when he himself sometimes forgot.

He used to bask in the attention, until it just got too small. The shrieks of his name at the airport- "Victor! Victor Nikiforov!"- and his hundreds of nicknames written in bold on magazine covers- The Hottest Bachelor in the World!; The Ice Prince of Russia!- and it was too small.

He won again. Again and again until it would have become more surprising if he didn't win. After all, Victor was the Ice Prince of Russia! and everyone expected him to live up to the title.

When the brand new too-big city he'd conquered got too small, a ball was held. He wasn't going to go at first.

He was sharing a hotel room with Yurio, and in the end, it was Yurio who convinced him to go. All he'd said was, "Fine, whatever, Victor. Stay up here and die of old age."

So Victor put on his suit and went downstairs to die of old age instead.

The party was held in the first floor conference room of the hotel. When he finally showed up, his medal strung around his neck, his almost-friends and Chris- who is either a friend or the weird kid no one talks to, Victor never figured it out- congratulated him. He smiled and thanked them.

It was all too small. Every year, the same thing happened. Victor is getting older, but the world sure isn't.

"Hi, Victor Nikiforov?" Victor plastered on his smile and turned. At first, he thinks it's a reporter, but the kid keeps grinning and talking, "My best friend is a huge fan, mind if I get a picture?"

"Sure." Victor leans down into the kid's camera. He snaps a photo of the both of them.

"What's your name?" Victor asks politely. It's always politeness at these things. Wear the medal but don't flaunt it. Talk to fans but don't scare them. He's mastered it.

"Phichit," the kid says, tucking his phone away. "My friend's name is Yuuri Katsuki. Actually, he's…" Phichit's eyes scan the crowd, and he points into a corner, "right over there."

"If he's such a fan, why doesn't he just come say hello?" Victor laughs.

The figure in the corner, facing the refreshment table, turns briefly, and catches Victor's eye. Victor waves- polite- and the young man jumps and turns away.

"Yuuri is shy," Phichit explains, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "And I'm sure he's drinking himself half to death right now…"

They laugh.

"Just make sure he keeps away from Christophe Giacometti," Victor warns.

"Will do. Thanks for the picture!" Phichit darts away.

Fans and friends approach him in droves. It's the same, but somehow, it doesn't seem as oppressive anymore. Something got bigger. Victor isn't sure what, but he likes it.

It wasn't an hour into the party. Chris must have started it. And where in the world did he get that pole?

Victor can't say he's complaining.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It was that night his world, the world, expanded. Suddenly and so rapidly that Victor's head was sent reeling. He's dizzy, not just from the dull buzz of alcohol, but the expansion of the world like a balloon popping.

It was the next morning everything went wrong. Check-out time at the hotel. Teams of skaters and their support units lining up in the lobby, chatting heartily.

Victor flashes one last smile at the young reception desk attendant, a smiley girl who blushes too much, and hauls his suitcases outside to wait for his taxi.

He's still getting used to how big the world suddenly seems. Cold and mild and hot, light and dim and dark, black and grey and white, summer and autumn and winter.

The automatic doors open. A chattering team of skaters bundle outside. A huge man with a grey ponytail ushers them around like ducklings. And near the back of the group, wearing sunglasses despite the silver clouds hanging low in the sky, Yuuri Katsuki.

The photo-boy from the night before, Phichit, Victor remembers triumphantly, is leaning together with Yuuri over a cellphone. Phichit glances up for a second, meets Victor's eyes, taps on Yuuri, and points.

Yuuri looks up, and his eyes widen. Victor waves, smiles, not just to be polite.

But Yuuri startles, practically jumping out of his shoes, and buries his beet-red face in his scarf.

The chattering team of skaters pile into one of the taxis lined up at the door of the hotel. Victor considers running up to the door. He almost does. Go, knock, the window will roll down and that drunk, loud, insane, beautiful boy will hop out and they'll exchange numbers and Victor won't be left here at the hotel door, alone.

The taxi speeds off.

Here, he broke my heart, Victor thinks, I need him to fix it.

He doesn't. He won't. He didn't.

Victor's world crumpled back in on itself, wrapping him up tightly and creeping down his throat.


	14. Geeking Out

**Sorry.**

 **Thanks to DragonStorm the phoenix for following and to PlutoSapphire for the review! (exclamation point X 1000000)**

 _PhiChal: OMG_

 _MemeTemeLeo: OMG_

 _Guang_Hong: OMG_

 _Ice_Tiger: WILL YOU SHUT UP_

 _Vic_N: :0 im dyin_

 _PhiChal: Is Yuuri pouting?_

 _Vic_N: XD_

 _MemeTemeLeo: r00d to your boyfriend Victor_

 _Vic_N: Fiancé_

 _PhiChal: OHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOD_

 _Ice_Tiger: WTF is going on?_

 _katsukidon: Victor put down your phone for two minutes please_

 _Guang_Hong: Uh oh_

 _Vic_N: but yuuri_

 _Vic_N: evgeni plushenko_

 _Ice_Tiger: WHAT?!_

 _Guang_Hong: Who is that?_

 _MemeTemeLeo: I'm really confused_

 _PhiChal: Wait you seriously don't know who Evgeni Plushenko is are you guys even ice skaters_

 _Guang_Hong: Occasionally_

 _katsukidon: Yeah who is he?_

 _Ice_Tiger: ONLY THE GREATEST ICE SKATER IN RUSSIAN HISTORY_

 _katsukidon: I thought that was Victor_

 _PhiChal: No but in real life_

 _MemeTemeLeo: wtf_

 ** _Guang_Hong has sent_** **.** ** _Click to download._**

 _PhiChal: I'm freaking out OMG VICTOR_

 _Ice_Tiger: Stop or the fourth wall will break you moron_

 _Vic_N: he followed my instagram_

 _Vic_N: evgeni plushenko followed my instagram_

 _Ice_Tiger: You probably stalked him until he followed you back_

 _Vic_N: he said he was a fan omg im so ded_

 _Ice_Tiger: He just followed me too_

 _Ice_Tiger: And liked my selfie_

 _Ice_Tiger: Beat that, old man_

 _PhiChal: WILL YOU INTRODUCE ME PLZ OMG_

 _Guang_Hong: I just looked him up whoa_

 _MemeTemeLeo: 2/10_

 _PhiChal: True. Victor beats him by a landslide_

 _katsukidon: ?_

 _katsukidon: Are you rating my fiancé Phichit?_

 _PhiChal: Yeah_

 _PhiChal: Victor and you are both 9s._

 _Ice_Tiger: Wtf_

 _PhiChal: Yurio is an 8_

 _Ice_Tiger: HOW DID PIGGY BEAT ME_

 _Vic_N: yuuri is more like 11 but ok_

 _katsukidon: Victor stop_

 _Vic_N: But why_

 _Vic_N: ur cute when u blush_

 _Vic_N: and ur hot_

 _katsukidon: VICTOR NO PLEASE_

 _Vic_N: like really really hot 12/10_

 _PhiChal: Screenshotted_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Did you seriously just put that on Instagram_

 _PhiChal: I am the captain of the Victuuri ship_

 _Ice_Tiger: That is the most disgusting thing I have ever read_

 _katsukidon: Victor you can't even see me_

 _katsukidon: Come out of the closet_

 _Vic_N: but ull yell at me_

 _katsukidon: Why would I do that?_

 _Vic_N: evgeni plushenko_

 _PhiChal: Victor is already out of the closet_

 _MemeTemeLeo: XD_

 _katsukidon: No I won't, just come out_

 _Guang_Hong: Remember at the bar that one time at the Cup of China_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Don't remind me_

 _Ice_Tiger: SHUT UP_

 _PhiChal: Victor and Yuuri are gone_

 _PhiChal: OMG_

 _PhiChal: My OTP is canon_

 _Ice_Tiger: Ew wtf_

 _Ice_Tiger: I did not need to hear that_

 _Guang_Hong: Neither did I_

 _PhiChal: But Yurio_

 _Ice_Tiger: THAT IS NOT MY NAME_

 _PhiChal: But Yurio_

 ** _PhiChal has sent_** ** _. Click to download._**

 _Guang_Hong: That is so cute_

 _MemeTemeLeo: True_

 _PhiChal: I ship it_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Did he leave?_

 _Ice_Tiger: SHUT UP_

 _ **Ice_Tiger has left the chat.**_

 _Guang_Hong: Salty_

 _ICExy: ;) What did I miss?_

 _MemeTemeLeo: Bye_

 _PhiChal: Uh oh_


	15. Teaching One Another

**Looks like we're halfway done and I'm almost dead but I didn't really die so it's all good bros. Seriously, sorry. I had some school complications and I've taken on a whole new project recently idk why I do this to myself plz help**

It's a given that Yuuri has to learn from Victor. Jumps, twirls, strokes. Emotion and style and the rock hard mechanics of skating. That's what coaches are for, really.

Katsudon? Really? Katsudon?

Victor can only blame himself.

Clearly, he hasn't done his job right. After all, at least some part of it is helping his student understand the feelings he's supposed to convey through his dancing, and honestly, Victor would be lying to himself if he didn't say that Yuuri is wholly and completely pure. At least when sober. But that's not his point.

Katsudon. Of all things, katsudon. The cutest of foods. He could have at least picked something Eros-er. Like tacos. Or ice cream. Or apricots. Apricots are sexy. Or are those peaches? Does it matter? What even is an apricot?

He's getting ahead of himself.

Katsudon. Eros. Yuuri. Teach.

Victor groans. Loudly. It startles Yuuri, who may have been asleep. Yuuri starts awake, glances at Victor, and mutes the TV. And just looks.

"Yes, Yuuri?" Victor finally asks with a smile.

"What is it?"

"What is what?"

"The matter. What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" Victor singsongs. Yuuri looks at him for a few more beats, until he just narrows his eyes and curls his brow and settles back on Victor's shoulder.

What is the matter with him, really? Katsudon. Seriously. Victor groans again, louder, tilting his head back on the couch and splaying his arms on the back rest.

Yuuri sits up. He turns away from the muted TV and regards Victor, who pretends to ignore him. Finally, Yuuri asks, "Victor, what's wrong?"

"Katsudon has ruined my life!" Victor sobs dramatically, falling over and hitting the armrest of the couch with his shoulder.

"What? How?" Yuuri unwraps the blanket from around his shoulders. They shouldn't really be in their pajamas. It's only seven and the inn hasn't really closed yet but business is scarce and it's too cold to be doing much of anything except drinking tea and hiding.

"Eros."

"Eros?" Yuuri regards him intently. Victor nods.

"Katsudon, Eros." Victor groans again, stuffing his face in a cushion. Muffled, he sighs dejectedly, "This makes me a terrible coach."

"Victor!" Yuuri exclaims. "Of course you're not a terrible coach."

"But Yuuri," he whines, "katsudon."

Victor can practically see the wheels turning in Yuuri's head. Then it clicks. His eyes light up and a smirk teases the corners of his mouth. "Victor," he laughs, "are you jealous of a pork cutlet bowl?"

Victor rolls back into a sitting position, defeated. Jealous of food. But it's really nothing to be ashamed of. After all, Yuuri is so worth being jealous over.

Yuuri seems to piece together how much this really affects Victor. His lips part, his eyes widen, and Victor wonders how it's even possible for this man to dance Eros so well.

"Y- You know, Victor, I-..." Yuuri begins. He tucks the blanket over his head, hiding his all too noticeable blush behind the dark warmth. He says so quietly that if Victor wasn't so enamored by the conversation he would have missed it, "I think you're my Eros."

There are a billion and one ways he could respond to that. Speechlessness being the most obvious and the most predominant. When Victor finally swallows the tangible snowball of surprise lodged in his throat, he manages to think up a witty reply.

He lurches forward, folds the puffy comforter around Yuuri's neck, and tugs him gently forward until he two are face to face. Victor presses his lips against the corner of Yuuri's jaw, just under his ear, and mutters playfully, "Then prove it, little piggy."

Victor pulls away just in time to witness the dangerous transformation between Yuuri off ice and Yuuri on ice. His lips curl up and quick fingers tug fringe away from his forehead. His innocent russet eyes smolder smoky cinnamon.

Victor can't decide if this was a bad lesson or a good one. No matter the consequences on himself, Victor is a teacher, and certain lessons can't just go untaught.

 **Whooooaaaa we're halfway there**


	16. Needing Each Other

**Thanks to PlutoSapphire for reviewinggggg!**

 **Exams are creeping up on me again so this may be my last chapter until I get on summer break so sorry and good luck with your own tests!**

"Rising star, the Ice Tiger of Russia, Yuri Plisetski and five-time gold medalist Victor Nikiforov fresh off their respective silver and gold medals at Skate America twenty-seventeen!" A reporter with graying black hair is talking rapidly in English. She grins and points her mic toward a grinning Victor with his arm around Yurio and a brand new medal around his neck. The camera pans off the reporter's face and focuses on the two skaters.

"How do you feel about your respective victories?" She asks.

"I still don't know how he beat me!" Yurio growls. "His sit spin was wobbly and he's out of practice."

"Very good!" Victor crows with a grin. "I can't wait to compete with Yuuri at the China event in a few weeks!"

Yuuri rests his cheek on his palm and his elbow on the arm of the couch. There's a thick blanket thrown over him and his laptop is hot on his knees, but he's still cold without Victor clinging to him.

Yuuri had wanted to go to America to cheer Victor on, but his coach had told him to stay in Russia to practice extra hard for the China event coming up. He's only been gone four days but Yuuri had been moping around the ice rink all week and after a while, Mila, who was training for the China event as well, had just told him to go home and get some rest. Victor is coming home tomorrow though.

"How do you feel about your chances of winning the Finals this year?" The reporter asks and Yuuri snaps out of another wave of loneliness.

"I'm going to win again," Yurio butts in.

"You can take bronze, Yurio." Victor puts him on the head like he does to Makkachin.

"That piggy can't skate worth anything," Yurio grumbles, shoving his hands into the jacket loose over his costume. Yuuri chuckles. It sounds empty and hollow in the silent room, and Yuuri remembers again how lonely he is.

It used to be like this. His whole life, he was sitting on the couch or the bed late at night watching skating live streams and current interviews. He'd never miss the great Victor Nikiforov. Not then, not now, not ever.

For a moment, he almost forgets all that happened. He jumps in his seat and it takes too long to locate the shiny gold ring just to remind him that yes, it did really happen, and yes, he really is going to marry Victor Nikiforov, the Hottest No-Longer-Bachelor in the World (haha, suck on that, skating community!).

"Anyone out there rooting for you that you'd like to acknowledge?" The reporter asks into her mic.

"My Grandpa in St. Petersburg." Yurio pauses a second and looks to the floor. He grumbles, "And I guess my fan group. Yuri's Angels or whatever." At that, the crowd of people just out of focus of the camera start squealing.

Victor jumps in front of Yurio and waves into the camera. He spells with his heart-shaped mouth, "The Katsuki family back at Hatsetsu! And of course Makkachin and Yuuri!" For good measure, he presses his own golden ring to his lips and calls out, "I love you, Yuuuuuuuri!"

On instinct, or instead, with movements he's oh so satisfyingly familiar with, he brings his own ring to his lips.

XXXXXXXXX

"No, no, Yuuri! I already told you, I want to see you at home, okay!"

"Victor, I-"

"Stay there, please? Pretty please?"

Through their cell phone call, Victor's voice is small over tinny speakers and the chatter of the late afternoon airport crowd.

"Okay," Yuuri sighs. He can practically see Victor's stuck-out lip and his childlike pout pull up into a smile.

"I can't wait to see you, Yuuri! I'll be home by dinner."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Bye!"

The line goes dead. Yuuri has been waiting by the door since noon. Makkachin nuzzles against his shoulder as Yuuri lays stretched out on the couch. It's kind of pathetic. It hasn't been a week and Victor is skipping tomorrow's celebration just to rush home to be with pathetic, lonely Yuuri.

He can almost hear Victor's calm voice in his ear, You aren't pathetic Yuuri, you're beautiful.

He is pathetic. He knows it. And now he's hallucinating.

He shuts his eyes, drowsiness heavy on his limbs from pulling an all-nighter to watch the whole of the Skate America live stream including the women's portion which, as it turns out, is actually far more popular compared to men's singles.

Makkachin whines and Yuuri tangles his fingers in the dog's poofy curls, dropping his head to the arm of the couch and letting Makkachin lay on his chest.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

When he wakes, it's already dark. Yuuri opens bleary eyes to heavy darkness and strange warmth. The pervading Russian winter chill is wiped out like it never existed.

A shaft of moonlight slants through the curtain and lodges itself on the floor like a mythical arrow. It casts just enough reality-twisting light that Yuuri can see blurred outlines of a shape resting on his chest. Surely not Makkachin.

There are boots places carefully by their feet and a thick overcoat and scarf draped lazily across the kitchen chair. Yuuri grins into the darkness and falls back asleep easily.


End file.
